


The Witch Wood

by orangelightsaber



Series: Reylux Drabbles [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Multi, Reylux - Freeform, Witch AU, mostly just some weird AU smut, some blood, the dark side as a metaphor for sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangelightsaber/pseuds/orangelightsaber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reylux witch AU.</p>
<p>Rey decides to follow Hux into the woods.</p>
<p>Dark-ish smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witch Wood

He was leaving again, Rey noticed as she waited by the window, face just short of being pressed up against the dirty pane. Every fifth day.

 

The setting sun lit his copper hair aflame as he made his way into the woods, the deep woods, the witch woods. Those woods that Rey had been forbidden from asking about and forbidden again from entering. But he was the Preacher after all, and a man grown. Who would have the gall to stop _him_?

 

There were rumors about why he went, of course—to save the witches and bring them to the light. Rumors that he himself was a witch, wearing the guise of a Priest to lure sinners to their death. But the most persistent rumor was this: that he was in love with the witch of the woods. A tall, tangling woman with hair like midnight and eyes like a storm. That every week he went to the woods to do his best to free her from the devil and bring her back into the fold.

 

It wasn’t a hard rumor to believe, especially not on an evening like this one, when the sun drenched the wheat fields in red. It was a night for lost loves.

 

Rey finished lacing the boot hanging from her waiting foot. This was the night, she told herself, the night where she learned the truth behind the rumors.

 

She kept an eye on the red-haired man, watching him pick his way carefully through the furrows of wheat as she finished her preparations. Dark jacket, to blend in with the trees and keep her warm, candles and flint to find her way back in the darkness. She patted the pockets of the jacket and found the smashed remains of a buttermilk roll she had ~~stolen~~ borrowed yesterday. She stuffed it into her mouth to ease that gnawing pang of hunger.

 

She watched as the sun continued to slip below the horizon. She was meant to be sleeping in the barn tonight, punishment for her failure to wake and milk the cows at the proper hour, so she knew she wouldn’t be missed until the morning. Plenty of time.

 

_He_ had reached the edge of the woods now, the newly minted copper of his hair shadowing to an ember in the gloom of the trees. He stepped into the darkness and Rey made her move, darting through the barn doors to follow him into the growing dusk.

 

Tracking him through the woods was no easy task, but Rey had been an adventurous child and grown into a clever woman. Years of living in the children’s home had made her sure-footed in hiding, and now, living under Unkar Plutt’s roof had kept her quick to avoid the sting of his hand.

 

_That old drunk_ , she thought with no small unkindness as she made her way over the dips and pitfalls of the forest path. She had a moment of panic when she thought she had lost sight of the man, but a flash of fox-gold set her upon his trail again.

 

It was dark by the time he reached the clearing, and Rey used the shadows to her advantage, drawing nearer than she would have otherwise dared. He began to build a fire, settling logs from an already collected pile into a ring of stones that looked like it had been used for that purpose before.

 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he shouted.

 

“Kylo! I’ve brought you something.”

 

The responding voice seemed to echo unnaturally in the trees around them. A laugh like the boom of thunder.

 

“I can see that. A little mouse, isn’t she?”

 

And then at all once the voice was focused in a single place, behind her. Rey whirled around to find herself face to face with the _witch_. Not a woman at all, it seemed, but a man. Tall and dark with a tangled crown of hair, studded through with leaves and twigs. He was fairer than she expected, with dark, catching eyes, and lips of the kind of soft petal pink rarely found on men.

 

He circled her with slow, stalking steps. Dark eyes owlish. “And you know how I _live_ to hunt mice.” His breath was hot on her cheek as he passed behind her shoulder, setting the curls of her hair into motion. “You’re that orphan girl, aren’t you?”

 

She nodded, doing her best to show him she wasn’t scared. After all, she had come here hadn’t she? Followed a strange man into otherworldly woods and here she was now, facing down a witch. She could be brave.

 

“Why this one, Hux? She’s different fare than usual.”

 

“Didn’t think she’d be missed,” came the red-haired man’s voice, and Rey shivered at the words. He was hunched over the bundle of sticks now, striking flint against stone, shedding sparks into the twigs. “But she’s not for _that_ ,” he continued without clarification, “I thought you might be more interested in this one than the others.”

 

“Oh?” said the witch, cocking his head to the side. He reached out a hand as if to touch Rey’s face and she flinched back, and then cursed herself for flinching.

 

“She’s got a reputation for trouble, this one,” the priest continued and Rey scowled. She’d heard such comments before, from more than one woman in the town. _Old biddies who couldn’t mind their business._ “Reminded me of someone.”

 

The witch’s eyes focused on Rey with renewed interest. “Is this true, girl?”

 

“I enjoy my solitude,” she said, sticking out her chin defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with that as far as I know.”

 

“And do you find things _happening_ in this solitude you so enjoy?” the man continued, dark eyes blazing. “The milk curdles when you’re angry. Sometimes, objects move where you want them to—people _hurt_ when you want them to. At times, it even feels like you can hear their _thoughts_.”

 

Rey’s mouth gaped open but she forced herself to shrug. _How could he know? Had the preacher told him?_ But no, no one knew about those things. The milk _maybe_ , it had been hard to hide, and she had felt the sting of Unkar’s backhanded slap for days after that one. But she’d never told anyone about the sting she’d given him right back, a feeling like slapping his face without touching him, and she doubted he had either—he’d never admit she’d bested him, even for a moment.

 

The man in front of her was grinning, a feral, wide-mouthed grin, the grin of a wolf who has cornered his prey.

 

“Oh, darling, what a delight,” he whispered, directing his gaze to the red haired man. Rey followed his eyes and saw, with surprise, that the witch was no longer beside her. He was on the other side of the clearing, arms clasped tight around the preacher, mouths caught in a furious kiss.

 

A hot blush rose to her face at the sight of them. She knew she ought to look away—men kissing men was not something the people of the town were supposed to be privy to, much less watch, entranced, as a strange, searing feeling rose within them, to pool at the apex of their thighs. A faltering noise broke the silence, torn half-way between a breath and a moan, and she realized it had come from _her_ , spilling unnoticed from her open mouth. She clapped a hand over the offending orifice, but it was too late, the men in front of her had already broken apart, panting, to sit on either side of the crackling fire.

 

Hesitantly, despite almost every instinct of self-preservation screaming at her to run, Rey stepped forward. The preacher’s raised hand gave her pause.

 

“Step carefully, girl. If you enter this circle you cannot leave it until the dawn breaks—it may be summer but that time lies yet several hours off.”

 

She raised her head to meet the Preacher’s eyes. _He_ was there. _He_ had no fear of the witch, no fear of the circle. And if he should not, then why she? Was she not quick and clever and strong? Did she not now hold a secret that, if told, could ruin him? She stepped forward, the quick flickering glow of the fire bathing her ratty boots in golden light.

 

Both men exhaled simultaneously. They shared a look, bordering on relief. Rey nearly grinned. Relief meant fear, and fear meant that however the night might turn, she was not powerless here.

 

The preacher spoke. “Tell me Rey, are you hungry? I’ve heard Plutt doesn’t feed his wards well.” He held out a handful of blackberries, purple skin nearly black in the glinting firelight.

 

_Heard and yet done nothing,_ thought Rey, but wisely said otherwise. “Yes, Father.”

 

“Hux is fine. There’s no need to stand on ceremony here. Piety won’t save you in these woods.”

 

She shrugged; piety had never done her any good regardless of location. It hadn’t brought her family back, nor eased her aching belly. She inched closer to his outstretched hand.

 

A raucous laugh broke the silence. “Well go on then little mouse,” said the witch, eyes hungry as he watched her.

 

His words emboldened her and she moved, hand darting out to grab the berries.

 

“Rey,” she said, as she settled herself next to the fire, carefully equidistant between the two men. “Not mouse.”

 

She stuffed the berries into her mouth, chewing inelegantly, feeling the juice of the sweet ripe flesh trickle down her chin. She wiped it away with a sleeve.

 

“This isn’t what I needed tonight,” said the witch, addressing the preacher. _Hux._

 

“You never know what you need. That’s why you have me.”

 

“I needed _blood_ , and hers won’t do.” Rey stiffened at that, torn between the seeping fear of dark magics and the strange slight to her pride at the thought that her blood was for some reason not good enough.

 

“Use mine,” replied the preacher, uncaring. He reached into the basket he had brought and removed a loaf of bread; setting it on a stone close to the fire so it would warm. In doing so he missed the look of lust that the dark haired man shot him, a deep, glimmering look, fearsome in its intensity. A look that made Rey’s legs ache just witnessing it.

 

Rey cleared her throat softly, waiting as their attention crystallized on her. “Why do you need blood? And what’s wrong with mine?”

 

The preacher chuckled at that. “See Kylo, she’s just what you need.”

 

The witch shrugged, but his face was hungry again as he watched Rey. The firelight reflected in his dark eyes, drawing her in until she realized suddenly that she was standing, that she had taken several teetering steps toward him without meaning to.

 

His mouth curved into a smirk, “And would you like to learn from me, Rey? I can teach you.”

 

She paused, unsure, as the witch stood, moving swiftly to the preacher’s side. He brushed back the other man’s hair, unbuttoning the high collar and stripping back his jacket from one shoulder, leaving a white expanse of neck bare. Without warning he struck, biting into the thick muscle where the neck and shoulder met. Pinching, crushing, tearing until blood welled up, ruby bright around his mouth.

 

The red-haired man cried out, more moan than scream. His eyes rolled back in the semblance of ecstasy and Rey could see now the growing bulge at the top of his trousers, stiffly outlined against the soft fabric as his hips jerked forward.

 

Rey’s mouth went dry. She had never seen anything like this. So terrible and yet so beautiful. A strange jolt of excitement coursed through her, settling in the pit of her stomach.

 

The dark haired man lifted his head, cheeks full, mouth smeared crimson. He spat into the flame. There was a crack like a strike of lightening and then a creature rose, dusky and ashy, part insect, part bird. It flew, trailing sparks and flame, upward into the night, careening wildly, its dragging tail setting embers in the tops of several trees. The witch puffed out his cheeks again and blew, wind swirled through the tops of the pines and extinguished the blazes.

 

Seemingly finished, he turned back to the preacher, reached his hand down to cup roughly between the red-haired man’s legs. Hux’s eyes flew open, dazed as he released a choked moan, before fluttering shut again.

 

Pink-lipped mouth now ringed with red, the witch spoke. “Your answer, girl?”

 

“Yes,” came her whispered admission. Fear and excitement burned equally in her mind, her stomach, her sex. “Yes, teach me.”

 

He smiled, teeth red with blood. “Come,” he said, reaching out a hand to pull her to him. He sat, pulling her onto his lap, his height bringing their faces almost equal. He took one of her hands in his own, bringing it to his mouth, pressing a bloodied mark into her palm. It burned hot and bright, the sensation exquisite, and Rey squirmed in his lap, unable to keep herself from grinding down against him.

 

She’d never been so close to a man before, much less a witch. It wasn’t _decent_ —wasn’t _proper_ —as the women of the town would say, but Rey didn’t care. It was as though something had been awakened inside of her. Some new feeling that pulled and yearned and reached, hungry for more.

 

He smiled at her, a thin, sharp smile like a whip-crack. “I feel it too,” he said, moving his head forward to brush his lips against her own.

 

She sank into the kiss, the bright copper taste of blood vibrant in her mouth. A sharp nip and she opened her lips, a long sinuous tongue sliding into her mouth, touching and teasing at her own. A small moan escaped her mouth at the feeling, and she flushed, embarrassed, as wetness pooled between her legs. His hands traced down her sides to rest atop her thighs, sharps nails biting into the golden flesh of them in a way that was both painful and electrifying.

 

And then his hands slipped under the hem of her long dress, pulling it up and over supple limbs until she sat, naked, exposed. It was strange, this feeling. She’d been told that a woman’s power came from withholding, from resisting—but this, seeing the eyes of the man in front of her, dark and wild, desperate as they took in every inch of her body—well this was power too. A dark charm all its own.

 

His hands, deft and clever, found their way to her breasts, cupping the soft flesh, pinching and rolling as his mouth crashed against her collarbone.

 

She sucked in a hiss of breath, hollowing her cheeks at his touch.

 

“Ah,” he said, understanding, “You’ve never done this before, have you? Never felt the touch of a hand not your own? No village boys with their own ideas of fun?”

 

She shook her head, face flushed. She wanted to turn away, embarrassed at her own desire, to break the searing contact of his eyes but she resisted. She was strong, wasn’t she? She’d come this far. She wanted more.

 

“And you’re sure you want to learn?” he whispered, not a witch now, merely a man as his hands slid up her thighs inch by inch.

 

“Yes,” she choked out, undone and desperate and ravenous, “Yes, teach me.”

 

His hands teased at the edge of her. Desperate for his touch, her hips twitched down against him and he smiled. The world cracked as his fingertip slid along the wet length of her, drawing a shuddering breath out from between her lips. His finger slid inside her and she gasped. Nothing in the world had ever felt like this, dark and heady and wanton.

 

“Full moon,” said the witch, speaking past her shoulder, as though to the wood itself.

 

“Indeed,” rasped the red-haired man’s voice, heavy still with the echoes of bliss.

 

Rey slid her head sideways to find that he had woken fully. He was watching them now, pressing a white cloth—now scarlet—to his shoulder. She knew she should be embarrassed but she wasn’t. In some way, his presence, his watching, soothed her. An anchor to the real world, the heavy pressing knowledge that this wasn’t a dream, no, this was real, _so real._

His green eyes glowed in the near darkness, lit by the flames, an expression of hunger on his face, of wanting. Something in her swelled at the sight of him so tempted. This so-called man of god, this beacon of light, undone by blood and darkness.

 

The man beneath her moved, shifting to pull off belt and trousers until skin met skin. Rey tore her eyes away from the red-haired man at the feel of the witch, pressed solid between her legs. Hands tight around her waist as he arched up into her, slowly, slowly. It hurt but not the sting of a slap, an aching, dull pain that faded even as he moved into her. She felt stretched thin, and pulled and full, oh god, so _full_.

 

They stilled then, a moment, a beat. Two chests rising and falling together. Waiting. Waiting for something, but what, Rey didn’t know. The witch reached up to cup her face gently, press his lips against her own, the tang of copper still present.

 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, owl-eyes hooded in concern.

 

She shook her head, “No,” she said, almost ashamed, as though it should hurt, she’d been told it would, been told she wouldn’t—shouldn’t enjoy it. “No. _More_ ,” she gasped, squirming her hips until his hands stilled them.

 

“Patience, darling--blood.”

 

She looked down so see the slightest glimmer of blood, nearly black in the darkness. He reached down to draw a finger through, smearing a line across her thigh. He reached up to press the bloodied finger into her mouth and she took it, the sharp metallic tang swirled on her tongue. It was as though something blossomed behind her eyes, a fierce, sharp force coiling at the pit of her belly.

 

He moved, then, and the world moved with him. Everything a sudden blur of mouths and hands and flames, swirling bright. His hand working between her legs, keeping tempo with each thrust of his hip, until the feeling inside of her was rising, building, cresting, and she cried out, tucking her body tight against his as she shuddered at the loss of control of her limbs.

 

Stillness again as she breathed, heart beating rabbit fast against his chest, the steel length of him within her still. The look on his face was pure magic, hot and wanting and she felt power at each movement of her fingertips as they traced along his back, each tight drawn breath as she surprised him. Sweat glittered on his brow and she could feel the tension pulled taut across his shoulders, each movement of hers tempting him to rise, to press, to thrust, but still he waited.

 

He met the preacher’s eyes, up over Rey’s naked shoulder, and quirked a brow. “Forgive me father,” the words fell from his mouth, mocking, “for I have sinned.”

 

Her breath caught in her throat as the red-haired man moved forward, stalking toward them to rest behind her, the heat of his legs warm on her back, impossibly hotter than the fire had been.

 

“I think you know the penance by now Kylo.”

 

Rey heard the sounds of a belt unbuckling, and suddenly Kylo surged forward, the movement of his hips forcing a stuttered groan out of her mouth. He laid her gently onto her back before the fire, mouth open in a moan as the movement brought them tighter together, then further apart.

 

Still feeling aftershocks, Rey’s mind reeled, looking up into his eyes as the witch lay atop her. The length of him burned and all she wanted to do was move again, to buck her hips and arch her back until she made him unravel.

 

A pale hand curled over Kylo’s shoulder, gripped tight. The face of the preacher appeared over his shoulder, smirking softly as he locked eyes with Rey.

 

“Ready to share a secret?” he asked, and thrust his hips forward. An expression of mixed pain and pleasure crossed Kylo’s face as a moan seared out though pursed lips. Hux’s face was beautiful, marble carved arousal underlit by sparks of flame. Each snap of his hips pressed the three of them closer together.

 

The world blurred. Faces curved in ecstasy in the flickering light. Rey had never felt so wonderful, so wanton, so fulfilled. It wasn’t long before she felt pressure rising again at the base of her belly, her body tensed and she cried out, dragging Kylo with her, who in turn dragged Hux.

 

They collapsed, a sweaty pile of skin and cloth, tangled limbs on the dirty ground.

 

Rey grinned, panting hard as she watched the light cast shadows along the beauty of both faces. “Is there more to learn?”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me on [tumblr](http://orange-lightsaber.tumblr.com) I post drabbles and shitty art there


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